If there was ever anything that Rhaego had learned about life, was that if he wanted something for himself... he needed to simply take it. Or else run the risk of never having it at all. Carpe diem.... seize the day, or however that saying goes. If he never took the opportunities that came at him, he would go no where and be no one. Rhaego very much wanted a large and prosperous herd to his name and so far he had a decent start, but he knew he could do so much better. Already his name had seeped through the surrounding herds - rumors and whispers. But he knew that some still spat his name, snickered even when he was brought up in conversation - and that irked him immensely, though it only made him more determined to seize the grand vision he carried in his mind and in the very depths of his beastly heart.

Intrigue and genuine curiosity sharpened the king's focus upon the spanish stud, his mind working to make sense of this proposition and what benefit exactly Bastille expected to gain for himself for it. Rhaego had already acknowledged the rewards he could reap from such an ally... and he had decided almost instantly that he wanted it, badly. Yet one defining thing about the burly draft is that he has always been leery and distrustful of things that he does not understand. And at that moment, he did not understand Bastille's mindset. It could be a ploy to infiltrate the herd to take and pillage through what the bronze stallion wished. While Rhaego enjoyed taking and pillaging things that were not his (actually quite a lot), he did not enjoy it in his own home. That is where he drew the line, a line that he would guard until his dying breath.

However, Bastille himself seemed oddly amused by Rhaego's prying question about why he did not wish more mares for himself... as if there was something glaringly obvious that he'd missed. Hoarding pretty doves felt like instinct to Rhaego and he simply could not understand how a stallion would be willing to trade away mares (and his services) for what felt like so little in return... for simply a place to stay? The bargain felt unfairly out of proportion, but in Rhaego's favor. It wasn't until the Spanish stallion's smooth voice filtered out again that the broody and contemplative facade of the draft began to crack with an amused half-smirk of his own. For the first time during this encounter, a trickle of understanding flowed through Rhaego. So Bastille wished to be spared the drama and the politics that came with a ruler's position. That, actually, was quite understandable.. and believable. If it weren't for the fierce drive to prove himself to the world as a powerful and thoroughly respected and/or feared warlord that could have whatever his heart desired then Rhaego felt he might could relate to the desire for simply a little peace and quiet with a lovely mare (or two, or three) to keep things fun.

A deep breath is exhaled roughly, the sound ending in a deep and throaty chuckle. One pretty thing was more than enough for him? How intriguing! But really, Rhaego could understand that mindset. Mares were their own separate species it felt like sometimes. "You will have to introduce me to your, 'doveling' when she arrives. She sounds like quite the catch if she is the only mare you need." A touch of a wicked grin twisted at Rhaego's ashy lips, perhaps even a bit of a conspiratory glint in his eyes as he flicked his white-streaked forelock from his vision. "Sounds fair. Consider it a deal when the first 'payment' arrives... so that I know you are serious. The Dale will be your home then." He nodded in affirmation, eyeing Bastille with interest now for his reaction.